


Cordial Relations

by Paian



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Aphrodisiacs, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Tent Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, proto-romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/pseuds/Paian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dessert wine at a village dinner offworld has left everyone with an itch to scratch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cordial Relations

Jack had a clock in his head, so checking his watch was pro forma -- or, more accurately, procrastination. Three hours and forty-five minutes since the sickly-sweet after-supper cordial at their welcome-to-our-village dinner had stuck him with the little boner that could. A gift, Teal’c had explained an hour after curfew, when Jack had braved the gale-force sleet outside his guest yurt in hopes of either chilling the hard-on away or finding somewhere windproof and private enough to masturbate it away. Teal’c’s symbiote was taking care of it for him, but (on Carter’s behalf, Jack understood but Teal’c would not on pain of death say) he’d questioned the most approachable elder about it, and been told that the arousal was a postprandial treat intended to encourage orgasms that would aid restful sleep.

“Have they _heard_ of digestive biscuits?” Jack had griped into the blasting wind.

“I have not heard of digestive biscuits, O’Neill.”

“Have they _heard_ of after-dinner mints?”

“I am unaware of any such treats on your world triggering sexual climax.”

“Apparently I never introduced you to the cherry cobbler at my favorite diner on Route 40,” Jack said. “First order of business when we get back. For now ... ” Hunched up in his foul-weather gear, he’d turned his whole body from side to side, scanning for somewhere to have a quick wank.

“Beyond that storage yurt you will be unobserved,” Teal’c had said. “But in this rapidly shifting wind the structure will provide no relief from the weather.”

Jack had gone round back of the yurt and given it the old college try, but the winter air was too cold, too wet, and too invasive for him to get off, and the drug was too potent for the freezing rain to kill the wood. He’d rejoined Teal’c and kept him company for a few more minutes, until Teal’c felt that he’d absented himself from Carter’s presence for an appropriate period, and then returned to the guest yurt he shared with Daniel.

Two hours later, he was lying in his sleeping bag on a crackly straw-tick pallet, fast approaching the seek-immediate-medical-attention mark. To no avail, he’d tried squeezing, pinching, stroking -- everything nice he could do for his dick in complete silence. None of it was anywhere near enough stimulation. He was going to have to pump in earnest, and do it now; had to get this done with time to spare for Daniel to do the same before whatever dire fate befell the male organ left erect for too long.

Daniel slept like the dead, or a log, or a dead log, for the first six hours of every night. That made it a massive pain in the ass to roust him for second watch, but it meant that no matter how noisy this got, the likelihood of it waking Daniel remained reasonably low. Jack would whack this thing into submission, wake Daniel with -- god help him, first time for everything -- orders to do the same, vacate the tent 'til Daniel called the all-clear, then get some goddamn sleep.

He rolled onto his back and pushed his boxer briefs down to clear some room to work. Came back up with one fingertip, tracing the vein on the underside of his erection from base to head -- delicately, feeling for his own pulse. The light touch felt way better now that it was teasing foreplay and not a tense attempt to cajole a noiseless orgasm out of himself under pressure. The sleeping bag’s silky lining whispered sweetly over his skin, sending a thrill of goose bumps up his chest and down his flanks.

Cocking one leg open for better access, he slid his fingertips down gently over his scrotum. Rubbed a seductive circle over each testicle, dipped down behind to stroke the root of his cock, dragged a grazing touch of fingernails forward. He teased his glans with the other hand -- taps with the pads of his fingers, squeezes around the ridge, a few palming tugs. Then he switched hands, cupping his balls in his left and closing his right around the shaft. Time to get this done.

“Jack?”

In his out-of-all-proportion full-body wrench of startlement at the sound of Daniel’s quiet voice, Jack thought, _Yessss!_ \-- triumphantly embracing the _crap, could he hear me?_ embarrassed surprise that should knock the arousal right out of him -- and felt like an idiot for not thinking to just wake Daniel up three hours ago. Calmly, out loud, he said, “Yeah.”

“I was waiting for you to finish and fall asleep, but you’re taking too long, so I’m just gonna go ahead, OK?”

Surprise had made both Jack’s hands go lax but wasn’t putting the least dent in his erection. Neither was confusion. Had Daniel been awake all along? If he knew about the cordial or had overheard Teal’c’s explanation, why hadn’t he jerked off while he’d had the yurt to himself? If he’d been asleep, how did he know he’d been hard the whole four hours? The answers had to wait until the boners had gone down, and if the boners didn’t go down they had to get the hell back to the infirmary, so Jack cleared his throat, said, “Yeah, OK,” and tightened his hands on himself.

The straw in Daniel’s mattress crackled and the material of his sleeping bag sighed as he shifted inside it, maybe pushing his briefs down, maybe rearranging his legs. Jack took his dick in a medium grip and started pumping, loose and moderately fast. Friction heat soaked into his flesh, and he swallowed a low moan. Stay hard too long and the need to come stopped feeling good; get turned on _then_ , and it was twice as hot and twice as powerful. He _ached_ for release, from taut straining cockhead to swollen balls; he thought he should maybe dial back on the manual stimulation because he was at serious risk of tearing something when he burst. He fisted himself harder anyway. Started working the tight upstrokes up over the head, rubbing hard on every downstroke. Squeezed his sac and pulled his balls away from his body, relished the tension thrumming down his perineum. Realized how intently he was listening to the slapping sounds of fleshy tugging from Daniel’s bag, trying to sync up the rhythm of their strokes.

The storm surged, sleet hammering the layers of hide protecting them, and Daniel’s body arched up in its bag. The interior darkness wasn’t total, and Jack could just make out the motion of Daniel’s hand in silhouette. He matched it with the motion of his hand, pumping hard in long, fast, tight strokes, and felt the onset of orgasm swell in his balls. Like a pulse weapon retracting to fire, his cock tightened down into itself. He was going to come. He had a crazy urge to tell Daniel he was going to come. It was too late; he was there, pleasure spiking toward pain, ejaculation burning through him, bathing his covering palm in pulses of fluid. A half-choked-off groan from beside him announced Daniel coming too. Jack smiled his way down the far side of his climax, a kind of fierce exultation, as if _he’d_ brought Daniel off. Man, the crazy shit that went through your head sometimes in the throes of it.

“Whooooo,” Daniel said, after a while, a breathy release.

“Hard-on go down?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. He took a breath, as if he was going to say something else, then let it out in what sounded like a sigh of deep satisfaction.

“Hell of a liqueur,” Jack said, with more appreciation than irritation now that post-orgasmic languor was seeping warmly through his muscles, relaxing him sweetly into his sleeping bag.

“Yeah.” Daniel’s arm flopped over and he rummaged in his gear. “Tissues?” he offered.

“Yeah,” Jack said, and took the little Kleenex travel pack Daniel handed across. As he wiped up and then wadded up, he said, “You know, I don’t think anything really happens at four hours on the dot. That’s just when you phone for a cab to the E.R.”

“I know,” Daniel said. “I really did just get sick of waiting for you.”

“If you knew the score, why the hell didn’t you rub one out while I was talking to Teal’c?”

With laughter gently choking his voice down to almost the same timbre it had when he groaned in orgasm, Daniel said, “What makes you think I didn’t?”

For a split second more, Jack thought it was the throaty sexuality of Daniel’s voice that was making his penis start to firm up again under his hand. That in itself was surprise enough; and then he understood that Daniel’s voice was only half of it. “Oh, boy.”

“ _Really_ good liqueur,” Daniel said.

Jack said, “Yeah, I’m gonna need more Kleenex.”


End file.
